Checkmate
by ToryTigress92
Summary: AU of 'Nightmare In Silver'. Things go terribly wrong for the Doctor and he has no choice but to retreat in the face of Mr. Clever. Clara escapes his clutches, and now with the obsession and memories of the Doctor infecting the Cyberiad, Mr. Clever will hunt her down to the ends of the Universe. But can the Impossible Girl out-flank Mr. Clever? She is the Universe's only hope...
1. To See A World In A Grain Of Sand

Checkmate

Warnings: Violence, character death, explicit scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its associated trademarks, unfortunately.

Chapter Playlist: 'The Impossible Planet' from 'Doctor Who: Series 2', 'The Trial of Loki' from 'Thor: the Dark World', 'Into the Lair' from 'The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones' and 'Crisis in Asgard' from 'Thor.

* * *

_London, Earth, 1899_

The world had changed.

_That's the understatement of the millennium…_

A mirthless smirk flashed across the face of the woman standing atop the roof of a ruined building, overlooking the eerie remains of what was once London. From her vantage point, she could just about make out where her old university had been. The street near Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament where her favourite coffee shop had been. Or would have been.

With all the gleaming metal and cold glass that surrounded her, it was hard sometimes to remember she was, technically, in Victorian London. 1899, to be exact.

Glimpses of the old architecture still remained beneath it all, but it was hard to see. The snow fell, chilling her beneath her combat suit and overcoat, the weathered brown leather wrist unit _bleeping_ softly against her skin. She'd made a few modifications to it since she'd stolen it from the Torchwood Archive in Cardiff a few years before. With help from a few friends along the way…

She raised her wrist to her mouth and started talking, her voice soft and halting on the cold winter wind that carried her words away. "I don't know if you'll ever listen to this, or even know about any of this. I don't know if this is even going to work…" she trailed off, as memory intruded, as her eyes scanned the dead horizon before her.

* * *

_She remembered running. Running so fast as her heart pounded in her ears, faster than she'd ever run before. And after the past few months with the Doctor, she'd become very good at running._

_She didn't know how much farther she had left to run. How much further she __**could **__run before the Cybermen awoke and resumed their attack. Something had made them freeze; she had a fairly good idea what._

_She could feel Ha-Ha and Brains at her heels, following her lead. She didn't know where Porridge was, she didn't know where any of the others were. Terror and gut-wrenching grief made her want to cry, but she pushed it aside. She had to get to the Doctor._

_She could hear his voice shouting as they climbed the stairs to the room where he was tied up, playing chess. She could hear Angie screaming, and a fresh bolt of terror rushed through her as she forced her aching legs to run faster._

_When she finally burst through the great doors, she felt her heart break entirely. Artie lay, limp and lifeless, under the upraised arm of the husk that had been Webley. Angie knelt beside her brother, crying softly now, her voice reduced to a husky wail. _

_Angie whimpered her name, as her eyes scanned the room, noticing Porridge lay unconscious at the Doctor's feet. The bomb had been tossed into the centre of the room, oddly innocuous-looking for all the destructive power she knew it possessed. But it was the Doctor who drew her gaze, at last._

_He looked terrible. He was sweating and his eyes were glazed, almost feverish. They scanned the room impossibly fast, jumping from one thing to the next, before they alighted on her. His hand trembled on the chess board, as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple, the one not marred by the metallic growth that now sought to control one of the most stubborn and indomitable men she had ever known._

_And it was winning. All hope died in her heart, as he raised feverish eyes to hers, and called to her. She rushed to his side, careful to keep her distance in case the Cyber-Planner re-emerged. Grief, and anger, at Artie's death boiled in her veins, but she held it back, even when his hand shot out and pulled her down so he could whisper in her ear…_

* * *

The memory of that awful day had scarred her nightmares for weeks to come. She could still remember the gentle words he'd poured into her ear, belying the terror and the pain that they promised. It had been, technically, three years since that day. Three years of blood, of running and hiding, and waiting. And hope.

Despite all, despite everything, she still had hope.

"I almost hate you for that," she whispered into her wrist unit. "Giving me hope. It would have been so much easier not to hope, to give up and let the Cybermen kill me. But that was never in my stars, was it, Doctor?"

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Other memories intruded, of running to the Tardis with a hysterical Angie, Brains and Ha-Ha with a still-unconscious Porridge over his shoulder, dodging Cybermen that were beginning to wake up. The moment she realised the Doctor had finally lost control. Begging the Tardis to help her, to read her mind so she'd know what the Doctor wanted. Arriving back in present-day London and leaving Angie there, broken-hearted and hating her for Artie's death and for not explaining. But how could she, where she barely understood herself?

And then to Victorian London, to the group called the Paternoster Gang that she'd encountered in Yorkshire. Watching the Tardis dematerialise for the last time, and crying until her voice broke from sobbing and her eyes stung. That was the last time she'd ever cried, she had vowed to herself. Knowing what fate the Tardis had been summoned to, she forced the tears to dry and to get on with the work.

"I'll never forget how much hate there was in Angie's eyes when I left her," she began again, as the wind picked up and the sound of metallic marching sounded beneath her perch, on the street below. She tensed, on instinct, despite the shields which would keep her hidden from the Cybermen's detection systems. "She didn't understand and I couldn't explain. Not then. She died, you know. Her and her dad," she murmured, once the sound of _clanging _footsteps passed. "When they began invading everything. I'm not telling you this to hurt you, just thought you'd want to know. And to remind myself what's at stake…"

Her voice petered off then, and she stared out at the grim night. There were times when she still forgot that. It was so easy, and yet so hard, to forget. With everything she'd lost, everything she would still lose, everyone she had and would sacrifice. And the last sacrifice to come…

They'd lost Ha-Ha and Brains in 1066, at the battle of Hastings, although not as she'd learned about it at school. In school, the suits of armour had contained all too-living men, flesh and blood, not cybernetics and brain matter. For all their bravery, they'd never stood a chance. They weren't soldiers, and she'd often wondered, what sense of obligation, or patriotism, had led them to sign up in the first place.

But then again, she wasn't a soldier either. Not really. Necessity, or fate, had made her one.

And Porridge. Good, kind Porridge who was more than he'd seemed. She hadn't found that out until the end, when his voice had activated the planet-imploding bomb on 23rd Century Earth. To save her, to help her escape.

There was no one left now. No one left of the tiny group that had survived the massacre and followed her to the Tardis. Only her.

She'd never gone back to the 21st Century, to her time, since. She knew it would have hurt too much, to see _**her **_London, _**her home**_, the London she knew and loved, turned into a cold, lifeless ruin populated only by ghosts and Cybermen. At least here, she saw only what would be, not what had been. _To see a world in a grain of sand…I'm starting to sound like him…_She thought wryly, the quote from Blake running through her mind, as she stared at the husk of a world she'd once known and loved.

She could hear the Doctor's whisper in her head again. Soft, gentle, almost loving if she hadn't known better.

"Maybe, I don't know better," she whispered, and she realised she'd been talking the entire time, laying out her heart and her broken soul into her wrist unit. She felt a foreign wetness on her cheek and gasped slightly as she touched her hand to her cheek. A tear. "You git," she chuckled. "You made me break my promise. I'm crying."

"Talkin' to yerself again?" a familiar voice asked, as she spun around. Behind her stood a girl barely younger than herself, with dark hair tightly pulled back into a bun, slender form encased in black leather, a sword forged of reinforced steel at her back. An eye-patch covered one eye, long tendrils of vivid, pulsing red extending from beneath it. She'd lost it in a fight with the Cybermen on Riva VII, a year after she'd found the Paternoster gang. "First sign of madness, yer know!"

"I think we're all past mad, Jenny," she smiled sadly, her fingers deftly pressing a few buttons on her wrist unit, saving the message and time-delaying it. It would be sent in a few hours. Who knew if anyone would ever read it?

Jenny's ruined face quirked as she smirked wryly, before it faded and a gentle understanding bloomed in her good eye. "Madam says everything is ready and it's time to go. Are you ready?" she asked, looking like she wanted to comfort the young woman in front of her, but there was a sternness in her eyes and face now that forbade such gentleness.

For a moment, that stern face gentled and the words that fell from her lips made Jenny want to weep. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for what's about to happen," she murmured. "I really am sorry. But if we succeed, none of it will have ever happened…"

With a deep breath, she looked back at the sky as the first light of dawn began to show, and she looked up, up into space and time, where somewhere her nemesis waited for her.

"Well, this is it. Hope you're ready," she whispered, as the cold wind lifted the chestnut brown hair that had fallen from her ponytail and made it float around her face. A grim smirk lit her face as she wiped away the tear, ignoring Jenny's concerned gaze.

After three years of running and hiding, of fighting and losing, Clara Oswald was ready.

* * *

_Somewhere in Space and Time…_

"ALERT! ALERT! ENEMY ATTACK DETECTED IN SPATIAL GRID 001, TIME GRID 000-GAMMA-2133! ALERT!"

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first time," a cold voice drawled. In a cold steel chamber, seated on a chair of steel, the speaker stood and all but skipped down the steps, landing on the deck with a flourish. The pane of glass before him showed a ravaged planet, clouds painted lurid hues scudding across its atmosphere, the continents below desolate and devoid of organic life.

It had been three years, in real-time terms, since the Cyberiad had succeeded in taking over the Doctor's mind. They had gained much, and learned much, and now they controlled all of Time and Space. Well, Mr. Clever did.

The Cyberiad had believed that they controlled him when they created the Cyber-Planner from the Doctor's mind. Little had they suspected he, in turn, would control _**them**_.

Now he controlled everything. Time, Space and the legions of Cybermen at his command. Planets upon planets to conquer and destroy, so many races to subjugate, forever and ever. The Cyberiad ruled all. _**He **_ruled all. The knowledge of Time Lord science, time travel in particular, had proven invaluable. Those pitiful pockets of resistance, and the millennia he'd left untouched, troubled him little. The paradoxes had been held at bay by his own ingenious innovations.

And now, _finally_, she had emerged from her hiding place. Clara Oswin Oswald, the Impossible Girl. The Girl who died and died again, only to be reborn. The thorn in his side, the fly that stung the lion, the annoyance that dared to ruin his utopia.

Somehow, she had gained access to the Tardis while he and the Cyberiad had been pondering the little quandary that Doctor had thrown their way during their chess match, and piloted it back to London, 2013, and then to Cardiff, 1899 before he'd managed to reclaim the Tardis using a recall subroutine hidden away in the coding of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. _A crude device, but not without its uses…_

Ever since then, she had been zigzagging through time and space, warning the peoples of the Universe of the coming apocalypse, setting up resistance movements. She had been the driving force behind the development of new technologies, new ways of fighting the Cybermen. Mechanical exoskeletons which allowed the user to move as fast and hit as hard as any Cyber unit. A mental communications network that the Cyberiad had yet to succeed in hacking. Portable transmat wrist units and then of course, there was the vortex manipulator she carried herself, stolen from the Torchwood Archive in Cardiff, and duplicated to a limited number.

_A worthy adversary…_

A smirk quirked the pale lips of Mr. Clever as his eyes blindly scanned the data currently being downloaded into his brain. He'd made a few improvements to this new form since he'd taken over. He'd reworked the neural interface as required, and he had augmented the physical strength and speed of this form with cybernetic implants beneath the skin. He ensured the protection of his vulnerable internal systems by replacing redundant systems with cybernetic implants or protective shells for those he was unwilling to upgrade. He had felt no need to upgrade fully, his new form was vastly superior even to the indestructible metal suits of the rest of the Cyberiad. All his implants were beneath the skin, bar the metallic growth on the side of his cranium which linked him to the Cyberiad, so he looked little different to the dying man Clara had left behind, that day on Hedgewick.

_I wonder how my little impossible girl will like me now?_

The dark, lustful thought drifted across the surface of his mind, and he felt the tremor as the Cyberiad reacted uneasily to the slight surge of emotion. He calmed them, soothed the unease, reining himself in so they were not distracted from their tasks. He permitted himself the mild, easily ignored emotions, ones that could not infect his perfection with sentiment. He admitted to himself, however, that the emotions in his mind towards Clara Oswald, the Impossible Girl, were neither mild nor easily ignored. They were, however, highly enjoyable and frustrating, a contradiction that were it not for the Doctor's darker impulses incorporated into the psyche of the Cyberiad, would have been merely cast aside and deleted.

Emotions helped him counter the pathetic resistance movements' actions. They would help him find, and take, Clara Oswald.

A predatory, unholy, smile grew on his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the universe as his mind gave commands faster than his mouth ever could. _Proceed to Earth, 2786. Directive 5548/Alpha. Find and destroy all resistance. Directive 0001/Alpha. Find and capture Clara Oswald. Alive._

As the ship moved to jump into temporal orbit, before jumping into the vortex, Mr. Clever's eyes flashed with dark intent, as he took an unneeded breath of the chilling air of the chamber. _I'm coming for you, Clara. Are you ready…?_

* * *

_Cyber Cluster 2881, North America, Earth, 2133_

The moment Clara materialised, she heard the screams, the sound of explosions and the smell of boiling blood and seared flesh. The Cybermen were taking no prisoners, this time.

She strode through the chaos, ignoring the shouts of the resistance fighters and the dead, emotionless commands of the Cybermen, the suit she wore allowing her to outrun them all.

The exoskeleton worked on a similar principle to the Cybermen, connected to her mind via an implant in her cranium, just under the prefrontal cortex. It allowed her to control the suit at the speed of human thought, as if the metal limbs were merely extensions of her own. It had been the idea of a rather ingenious UNIT scientist called Malcolm, to use the Cybermen's own weapons against them, but unlike the Cybermen, they could turn these machines off. The machinery flowed over her body like some kind of obscene spider, crouching along her spine, it's many legs flowering out and over her body in a metal embrace, trailing down her arms and legs.

The implant also allowed neural communication in emergencies, and Clara could feel the connection opening up in her head like a flood of thoughts and memories. She grimaced as she concentrated through it all, seeking the one who wanted to talk to her.

_Clara!_

Captain Jack Harkness's mental voice echoed in her ear like he shouted directly into it. Clara mentally winced.

_No need to shout! I can hear you, y'know! _She replied irritably. She felt Jack's silent apology, as she took cover behind an upturned computer bank. They were in a conversion factory and power distribution centre in what had once been San Francisco, trying to download data from the Cyberiad computer core before blowing it up. Practically a suicide mission, as Clara had known all along.

She'd first met Jack when she'd teleported onto a space station in the 24th Century, in the Andromeda galaxy. Something about him had drawn her, and when she explained her story, her instinct hadn't been disappointed. A former companion of the Doctor's and the previous owner of the vortex manipulator on her wrist. Together, they'd worked on the vortex manipulators to enhance and upgrade them, though always careful not to do it in the same room. God knows what kind of paradoxes that would have created.

When the Cybermen had materialised in that century, Jack had taken over the resistance movement. When they'd been forced to abandon the 24th Century, he'd retreated to the 22nd Century to continue the fight. He'd also taught Clara to fight, as well as a few tricks he'd learned in the Time Agency.

They rarely spoke of their pasts or of their time with the Doctor, but Clara recognised a kindred spirit in Jack, and someone who could help her get the job done. She was just sorry she couldn't tell him about it.

She saw him approaching through the fog and clamour of the fight, and mentally closed parts of her mind off. She couldn't let him know what was coming next.

_I thought you'd never get here. Almost hurt my feelings, still not every day you get stood up by a gorgeous woman with a gun and a vortex manipulator! _Jack's cheeky grin belied the strain and the fear Clara could feel in his mind, and she smirked at his flirting. Typical Jack.

_I wonder how the Doctor handled all __**that**__…? _She wondered, remembering how flustered the Doctor could get whenever anyone implied anything about their relationship, before flinching away from the recollection. _Focus, Clara!_

_Sorry for the delay. You know how vortex manipulators are…_ She trailed off suggestively. _Strax says hi._

_How is the old potato-head? _Jack laughed, and Clara felt the urge to laugh too, forgetting her job for just one second. The weapons fire intensified, and they both flinched away as a laser pulse impacted against the wall near their heads.

_Starchy. Talk later. What's the situation? _She asked quickly.

_Bad. The second group tasked with hacking the data core is down, and we're pinned here. I've lost six of my men, and the other five are trying to hold off three times that number in Cybermen! This is bad, Clara, you should get out of here! _He replied grimly. Suddenly a metallic voice that made Clara's skin crawl demanded their surrender, and they both sprang into action.

Clara ducked and threw herself into a dive, coming up on her feet after she rolled and whipping out her laser cannon from the exoskeleton. It fired three pulses at the Cyberman, before another lunged for her from behind. Clara felt a crushing pain as the laser cannon was pulverised, and her arm in danger of the same. _Thank God for helmets! _

She head butted her captor, not to stun but to throw it off-balance enough to get an elbow free. She elbowed it in the face, before spinning as it finally released her and following up with an uppercut to the chin. The head went flying, but the automated suit came for her again, and she took a running jump, leaping onto its chest and tearing through the chest plate to rip out the central power node. The suit whirred and died, collapsing limply beneath her, and she leapt away as she felt more Cybermen come for her.

She still felt Jack's thoughts in her mind, even as she ran, through corridors that all looked the same. She needed to make this look real, look like an escape.

_Clara, you need to get out of here! They want you, they're after you!_

_I know! _She replied. _Jack, get out of there! There's nothing more you can do, use your vortex manipulator!_

_Can't. Lent it to someone else. _Was the short reply, and Clara's heart sank.

_Damn you, Jack! _She snarled at him, and she could imagine his short, cheeky grin and his handsome face vividly.

_Already am, darling. Already am. I've still got the charges to destroy the power core. One pro to being immortal, suicide missions never end badly. I'm going to make sure I'll take some of these bastards with me this time! _He replied, and she could feel the fear and the determination in his mind. She felt a tear well, but ruthlessly held it back as she always did.

_Jack, you'll just revive and they'll have you. The last thing we need is them experimenting with Vortex energy to create more like you! Get out of there! _Clara mentally screamed at him, even as she ducked into another corridor at an intersection, Cybermen on her heels. The exoskeleton allowed her to stay ahead of them, just.

But even with the help, her body was tiring.

_Sorry, Clara Oswin Oswald. You owe me a drink when this is all over! _Jack retorted, and the flirtation was back. A rueful smile twitched on Clara's lips as she panted, adrenaline and fear spurring her forward. Jack's mental voice turned concerned, and she shuddered. _Clara, you need to get out. They want you. You're the linchpin of the neural network, the secret to toppling it and controlling the last remnants of resistance. You have to stay free._

She felt his fear as the charges began to ignite, and her hands literally itched to flip open her wrist unit, type in a few co-ordinates and rescue Jack. But she couldn't, this had to look real. They had to think they won, that they'd caught her at last. _Goodbye, Jack_…

* * *

The neural connection was abruptly severed, and the cacophony of voices in her head disappeared. It was just her, and a legion of Cybermen at her back, chasing her down like prey.

Suddenly she gasped as a pulse of energy impacted against her spine, lifting her and carrying her through the air, smashing her into a wall. The exoskeleton protected her spine from the worst of the impact, but she could feel a couple of bruised ribs, at least. Tears blurred her vision, as she felt the crackle of electrical energy across her back as the exoskeleton went off-line, burning her skin and she tore it off desperately. Now it was just her and the Cybermen, and she was at a distinct disadvantage. She stood, painfully, and faced her captors defiantly, sternly refusing to allow herself to think about Jack, or the others who'd died or been converted, about what would happen if she was wrong, if the Doctor was wrong, if the Cybermen didn't act as she guessed they would…

They didn't move, facing her with blank, implacable metal stares, watching her but making no move to actually touch her. She curled and uncurled her fists, waiting. _Come on, come on…_

Then one stepped forward. "Clara Oswald. What a wholly expected pleasure!" a familiar voice issued from its mouthpiece, and Clara suppressed a shudder. She knew that voice, changed as it was, cold and ruthless. Fear rose up to choke her, but she pushed it down. She was nearly there.

She stepped forward, a defiant smile on her face. "Likewise," she murmured with a flirtatious smile at her captors, knowing the visual and audio feed would be uploaded directly to the Cyber-Planner's mind. "Sorry, no time to chat though. Places to be, people to see, Cyberiads to destroy! Toodles!"

She hauled her wrist up, typing in some co-ordinates and initiating transport, but nothing happened.

"I've initialised a temporal dampening field around your location," Mr. Clever's voice still issued tauntingly from the Cyberman's mouthpiece. A mockery of a conversation. "A new innovation of mine. So you're not going anywhere, I'm afraid, my dear Miss Oswald. I've got you exactly where I want you, Clara Oswald. You're mine now."

Clara didn't find it hard to look frightened and angry, like a cornered animal. She really was terrified. But inwardly, she smiled. _Right on target…_

"Well, then. I've always wanted to say this: take me to your leader!" she replied mockingly, as the lead Cyberman stepped forward and placed its hand on her shoulder. It hit her with a nerve charge, knocking her unconscious.

Clara didn't feel cold, steel arms lifting her into its embrace or the tingling energy of the transmat beam. She could only feel the last remnants of fear and anticipation in her mind as the thought made its sluggish way out of her subconscious. _I'm coming, Doctor…_

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. And Heaven In A Wild Flower

Checkmate

Warnings: Violence, character death, explicit scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its associated trademarks, unfortunately.

Chapter Playlist: 'On Thin Ice' and 'Mind If I Cut In?' from 'the Dark Knight Rises' and 'Tower Prayers' from 'Snow White and the Huntsman'.

* * *

"_He won't stop hunting you…Across all of time and space, he'll hunt for you…Use it, use his obsession, when the time is right…"_

_She heard the Doctor's words, caressing her ear like a lover's touch, but the meaning behind them made her tremble. Terror, incomprehension and anger raged for dominance in her mind, and incomprehension won out in the end._

"_Doctor, I don't understand?!" she murmured, watching with rising horror as she saw his hands clench into fists and uncurl again, the skin red with strain. _

"_I'm keeping him distracted but it won't work for much longer. Clara, it all depends on you," he gasped out, fevered eyes meeting and holding hers with a pained desperation. "He's integrating me into their systems but he doesn't know what he's doing. They don't know what they're unleashing. My obsession will become his obsession…Clara!" he grabbed her hand, hauling her closer. "My Impossible Girl. Never forget; you are his obsession, use it!"_

* * *

Clara came back to full consciousness as abruptly as if she'd been hit with a cold shower of water. She sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, as her vision was a simply blur of light. She blinked, wincing, and slowly her eyes settled, adjusting to the light in the room, and she relaxed the tension in her limbs.

Before memory filtered back. Before she remembered Jack, and the others. The attack. Her capture.

Her brain processed them all-too quickly, as the realisation dawned as to where she was. As she looked around her, at the blank metal walls and the hard, uncomfortable slab she'd been laid upon, she felt dread and anticipation rise up in equal measure. She was on a Cyber ship. Just as she'd planned, and the Doctor had predicted, they hadn't converted her or killed her, but imprisoned her on one of their Time-ships.

_**His **_obsession had won out over Cyber logic, after all.

As she swung her legs around and off, she felt fabric fall over them, _shushing_ like silk and glanced down to see her clothes had been changed. Her combat suit and boots, and her wrist unit, were gone. Her hair was loose and straight down her back, her skin cleansed of the blood and dirt that had clung to it. As she moved, she expected pain from the bruised ribs she'd acquired during the chase, but there was nothing, no pain. In fact, if it wasn't for her current circumstances, she'd have felt better than she had ever done. She was clean, she was healed of her wounds, and she felt full of energy.

She wondered uneasily just what they'd done to her while she was unconscious. Reflexively, she ran her hands over the clothes they'd dressed her in, feeling a slight sense of outrage that a Cyberman had changed her clothes while she was unconscious. If it weren't for the fact it would break her hand, she'd have punched whichever Cyber-unit had dared for that.

She felt no trace of any implants or surgical procedures, and despite the chill in her cell and the lightness of the fabric of her clothes, she wasn't cold. The dress they'd put her in fell in long, flowing folds of a soft, shimmering silver. It held tightly to her arms and torso, before flowing from her hips to just skim the floor. As she moved forward, slits in the fabric appeared, revealing her legs clothed in darkly-coloured leggings and knee-high boots. She pondered the logic behind this apparently benign act of clothing her. Healing her injuries she could understand, since they, or rather _**He**_, wouldn't want anything to happen to his prize. But the clothing? Cybermen didn't care for appearances or aesthetics, so why had he ordered her clothing changed?

_I guess the Doctor's predictions about his obsession came true…_Clara thought, with a shudder. _My obsession will become his obsession. Typical Doctor, only admitting he fancies me just as he's about to be taken over by a psychotic computer system!_

Whatever the reasoning, her nemesis wasn't acting logically and therein lay her advantage, and her hope. If he'd just meant to kill or convert her, the Cybermen down on Earth would have done it hours ago. But instead she was there, stuck in a cell, healed and dressed in a ridiculous outfit.

_He's turned me into some kind of Space Princess Cyber-Barbie! _She thought irritably, already plotting dire revenge against the Doctor when this was over. Yeah sure, he had diminished responsibility, but all this was still his fault in the first place!

Abandoning her perusal of her clothes, she looked up and glanced at her surroundings. She'd never been on a Cyber ship before, since the resistance mostly focussed on planetary-based missions, and her vortex manipulator/teleportation unit made space travel unnecessary. Something about the wall opposite her slab niggled at her, as she narrowed her eyes and stared at it.

Something, some instinct, whispered that there was something not quite right about that wall. Her travels with the Doctor had taught her well, and she knew better than to take things for granted. She also had the unpleasant feeling that she was being monitored.

In her head, the implant activated, and she could sense the proximity of the Cyberiad, surrounding her like a chilling fog, drowning out anything else. She didn't dare probe it, just yet. She needed to know her battlefield first.

She moved towards the wall, and her eyes spotted the slight shimmering effect of the metal. She placed her hand on it, and felt the cold sting of the metal bulkhead, but her mind whispered it wasn't what it seemed. _Perception filter…Time Lord science…_

Withdrawing her hand, she inhaled calmingly, and closed her eyes. _In a second, I'll either be on the other side of that wall or have a really bad bump on the head. And a broken nose. Possibly._

Forcing herself to ignore the part of her mind that was screaming at her for trying to walk through a solid wall, the part that the perception filter influenced, she reached her hands out and stepped through.

Immediately the coldness of the wall gave way and then there was nothing, just chilled air as she took a blind step forward. Then her hands met more frozen metal, and she mentally groaned. _Just wonderful…_

She opened her eyes to find herself in a long corridor, but that wasn't what had sparked the sarcastic thought in her head. She'd walked straight into a squad of Cybermen and her hand was splayed over the chest plate of the leader.

"YOU WILL REMOVE YOUR HAND AND COME WITH US. THE CYBER-PLANNER COMMANDS YOUR PRESENCE!" it intoned, that robotic voice grating on Clara's ears. Gritting her teeth, she let her hands fall to her sides and gestured at the Cybermen sarcastically.

"Lead on, Mr. Tour Guide. I want to get my moneys' worth!"

"YOU WILL CEASE IRRELEVANT VERBAL INTERACTION. MOVE!"

"Fine, fine. Whatever," she sighed, rolling her eyes as the squad moved off, through the icy corridors of the Cyber-ship. And to her appointment with her nemesis. At last.

Clara barely got a glimpse of the interior of the Cyber-ship; her guard was so intent on walking fast like it was going out of style. She kept up with an effort, wishing not for the first time that she was taller, glancing around her surreptitiously as they passed through section after section, until her head spun. She tried memorising their route but they were moving too fast. Deliberately, probably, so she couldn't work out an escape route.

Abruptly they stopped in one chamber and Clara's shoulder was brutally grabbed and she was shoved onto an iridescent circle in the floor. She felt the tingle of the transmat before she could say anything, and the Cybermen dematerialised before her eyes. She blinked and then she was standing in a large, echoing chamber, facing a wall that was essentially made of a transparent hardened glass, to both protect from the vacuum of space and to give a panoramic view of space. Clara was entranced, forgetting her situation for a moment, as she moved towards it.

They were cruising slowly past a complex tapestry of nebulae, the bright, vivid colours dazzling Clara's eyes. She'd seen pictures of such astronomical phenomenon at school. _Star nurseries…_

She was stopped in her tracks as a dreaded, and beloved, voice rang out across the chamber from behind her. She spun as the voice spoke, her heart pounding. "Clara Oswald, long time, no see…"

Mr. Clever. The Cyber-Planner. The Doctor.

* * *

The name rose to Clara's lips but it faded, as did the instinctive joy at seeing her friend and companion again, as the obvious differences wrought in the past three years since she'd seen him last became apparent the closer the creature that wore the Doctor's face and form came.

That achingly familiar face was the same, his mad, crazy hair was the same, shining lustrously in the dull, cold light of the chamber. He had stood from a wide metal…throne was the only word Clara could think of to describe it, and he was clothed from head to toe in black, a black tunic, trousers and boots, covered by a long coat in black. It reminded Clara so forcefully of the Doctor's usual getup that tears sprang to her eyes.

_He's mocking me, taunting me. Trying to get me to break by making me think the Doctor's still in there. Nice try…_Clara thought, refusing to let her tears fall and letting her anger keep her strong. As he descended the steps of the dais towards her, he moved with a catlike grace and intent that the Doctor had lacked. He had always been manic, practically leaping from one exciting thing to another, always hyper on his own wonder at the Universe. This…man moved unhurriedly, arrogance and ruthlessness practically oozing from every gesture.

He was still very much flesh and blood, despite the metallic growth on his temple, and Clara was relieved that he hadn't been upgraded. It had been their one great fear, the one thing that could scupper their plans before they'd even tried, that the Doctor's body might be destroyed. But it hadn't, and therein lay Clara's first advantage.

"Likewise. I would say it's a pleasure, but then I'd be lying," she quipped, keeping her limbs light and loose, pretending nonchalance. Inwardly, she was quaking and fear threatened to make her lose what little contents her stomach possessed all over his nice, shiny boots. It almost made her laugh to imagine a Cyberman on it's hands and knees, buffing away at them. The image gave her strength, as he descended the last step, and began walking across the floor to her.

Mr. Clever huffed a laugh, a mockery of it anyway, and his eyes raked her form hungrily. _Advantage number two…_Clara thought distractedly.

"I assure you the pleasure is all mine," he drawled with a sly little grin, and Clara shuddered but tried to disguise it by turning away and walking off. She felt him follow her, keeping pace easily, his breath practically scalding the back of her neck, a shocking heat in that icy chamber.

"Chasing me across Time and Space, not killing me or converting me, healing my injuries, giving me a new dress," she mused, as she walked, surprised to see a table and two chair set out, a chessboard waiting for them. "A girl could almost find it all flattering," she remarked finally, coming to a halt as she saw her vortex manipulator lying on the table, in the centre of the chessboard, equidistant between the two sides.

"You do enjoy playing hard to get, my Impossible Girl," he replied smoothly, and anger burned at that familiar nickname. With a speed and force that she'd never have known she was capable of, Clara spun, her fist flying towards his face, on the unmarked side. Her fist connected with his jaw, complaining painfully at the abuse, her knuckles cracking with the effort. She'd suffered worse in the past three years.

He rolled with it, before straightening with an unholy gleam in his eye, a cruel smile on his thin mouth. Clara desperately wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face, and tried to do just that, except this time he caught her wrist in a grip of iron.

"Did you really believe, in that pathetic little brain of yours, that would work a second time?" he asked her coldly, and she grinned despite the pain of his grip.

"Thought it'd be worth a try," she shrugged, panting from the exertion of keeping herself upright as he put pressure on her wrist and arm warningly.

"And it felt good, didn't it?" he chuckled, a purely evil sound that nevertheless sent unwelcome shivers down Clara's spine. "Frustrated are we, my dear?"

"Do Cybermen even have a concept of frustration?" she retorted quickly, and his eyes gleamed in the dim, cold light. He abruptly released her wrist, and she stumbled back, glaring at him as she cradled her sore arm, massaging her hand carefully.

"You, my dear, are the very definition of the word," he replied shortly, already turning away from her. Clara watched and waited, her mind racing. This was not what she'd been expecting, but rather what she had hoped. He stopped and gestured to the star nursery outside the observation window. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"I would've thought that beauty is irrelevant to the Cyberiad," she remarked carefully, watching him closely. He didn't reply at first, before he chuckled again and turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back, and that same hungry look passed through his eyes. Her pulse raced at that look, extremely unwelcome and unlooked-for before the Doctor's bloody deathbed confession, and she mentally yelled at it to calm down. She was sure he knew.

"It is. A by-product of sentiment and therefore unnecessary," he replied suddenly, walking towards her and the chessboard swiftly. "Nevertheless, that does not mean I cannot identify and appreciate it."

Clara felt that the best recourse was to retreat, temporarily, so she stepped back from him and turned to the chessboard, looking down at it intently, her eye on the vortex manipulator. She felt rather than heard Mr. Clever inhale laughingly, as he stepped up to the table, his hands almost caressing the edge of the board teasingly. "You want this, don't you?" he stated matter-of-factly, reaching down and scooping up the wrist unit before Clara could react. He smirked deprecatingly, as he tossed it to her. "That's my, wild, Impossible Girl. Always thinking of escape, of resistance. Defying me."

"I am not your anything," she replied as she eyed the vortex manipulator, before tossing it back on the board. "And I'm not stupid. You blocked my escape back on Earth with a temporal dampening field. I'd be stupid if I didn't think you had one operating right now."

"Clever girl," he smiled, picking the manipulator back up and considering it before meeting Clara's defiant, angry glare again. "Do you play chess?"

"A little," Clara admitted. She'd dabbled in school, but she'd never pursued it as a serious hobby. "But I'm not stupid enough, or arrogant enough, to think I could beat an opponent with the processing power of billions of minds linked to yours, and I doubt I'm here because you got bored and wanted someone to play chess with. So that begs the question: why am I here?"

Mr. Clever laughed properly this time, no longer a teasing chuckle, but a full, roaring laugh. It sounded more than a little deranged to Clara, and it almost physically hurt to see and hear the Doctor, hear his voice, see his face, and yet he was so foreign. An insane, ruthless creature. She couldn't let her guard drop. "Clever, wild, impossible girl," he murmured, once more playing with the vortex manipulator. "He taught you well."

"Don't you dare talk about him! Don't you dare say his name!" she snarled quietly, and all levity dropped from the Cyber Planner's face, and there was just cold, ruthless calculation left, considering her. She raised her chin defiantly, staring him down, refusing to let her fear show. "Whatever you're planning, whatever you're going to do with me, I will not give up. I will never stop fighting you!" she added proudly, and that seemed to make him snap, at last.

* * *

The hand holding the vortex manipulator suddenly snapped shut, and Clara felt horror as she heard the sound of twisting, tortured metal, energy discharge sparking between his fingers. His cold eyes found and held hers, and as he tossed the now crushed and useless manipulator to the floor, he raised his other hand and curled it into a fist.

Clara grimaced and fell to her hands and knees, gasping for air. "What are you doing to me?" she panted, barely able to speak. Her vision was blurred, as his boots came into view and then a hand reached into her hair and twisted, hauling her upright onto her knees in the most painful way possible. She was forced to arch her neck back to relieve the pressure, her tear-blurred eyes fixed on Mr. Clever's. An amused smile made him look disgustingly charming despite what he was doing to her, and she hated herself for the pounding rush of arousal in her blood. His comment about frustration had hit a little too close to home.

"While you were unconscious, we scanned you," he explained, slowly, taking his time as his grip tightened in her hair and she grimaced, forced to arch her back ever-further to relieve the prickling pain at her roots. He bent over her, like a predator over fallen prey. "We found the implant located in your brain, beneath the prefrontal cortex. We managed to hack the frequency and bada bing, bada boom! We now have control over the central nervous system of your pitiful little resistance."

"You might have control of my nervous system," Clara panted defiantly. "But you haven't broken the mental block. I'd know if you had."

"Regrettably, you are correct," he sighed, as if in exasperation. "Incidentally, I am curious. Where did you learn to successfully initiate such an effective mental block?"

"You have the Doctor's memories," she replied scornfully, or as scornfully as she could manage while paralysed. "Surely you know that you're not the only one capable of doing something like that."

Mr. Clever paused for a moment, as if searching for something, before a pleased grin appeared. It made Clara's skin crawl. "Ahh, the reptile. Of course. Clearly, you made an excellent student."

"You're so full of compliments today, aren't you?" she joked weakly, her eyes darting between his own and the rest of him. "What are you? You may control the Cyberiad but you're not one of them. No Cyberman would act as you have done…"

"No, no my dearest Clara," he chuckled, softening his grip a little, letting her breathe and releasing the pressure on her hair, his lips hovering over hers. They almost brushed and Clara couldn't hide a shudder this time, her body contradicting the loathing in her mind as triumph gleamed in Mr. Clever's eyes. "I am neither Cyberiad nor Time Lord. I am better than both. I am something new."

And with that, he released her entirely, and she dropped to her hands, catching her breath. She raised her head as she scrambled to her feet, reeling from both his words and his almost-kiss, to find he had re-ascended the steps of the dais and resumed his throne, staring down at her imperiously, that triumphant gleam still there, making Clara want to punch him again.

"And you, Clara Oswald, you belong to me now," he continued huskily, with a predatory grin.

His fingers flew over an interface set in the arm of his throne, and Clara found herself transmat-ted back to her cell, except this time the wall was unfortunately very solid.

* * *

She slumped down on her slab, exhausted from the confrontation, but as she ducked her head, mindful of surveillance, she allowed herself a tiny smile. The Doctor had been right. Merging Time Lord with Cyberman had created a persona which belonged to neither, one that the Cyberiad had no hope of controlling. In the end, he had overridden the programming controlling him and taken over. That meant the Doctor could be reached.

Her body ached from the Cyber Planner's manipulations. He'd hacked the implant's frequency but it wasn't as absolute as he thought. He could control her, but she could resist fairly easily. So would the others, if he tried to use it before this was all over.

But he thought he was winning, and that made him arrogant. And arrogance would lead to complacency. And that would lead to his undoing, and the Universe's salvation.

Seeing his face and hearing his voice in her mind again, she ignored the surge of arousal again, refusing to acknowledge it. Now was not the time and she had a job to do.

Feigning resigned exhaustion, she allowed herself to collapse gently sideways, curling into a ball and facing the cell wall, away from the fake one. She closed her eyes and activated the implant, concentrating fiercely.

Now that Mr. Clever had accessed her implant, he'd provided her with a little backdoor into the Cyberiad network. And clearly he'd forgotten to access all the Doctor's memories of her, otherwise he would have remembered that her brush with the Wi-Fi when they first met had left her with first-rate hacking skills. It would be difficult, delicate work to avoid detection but she knew what she had to do.

She allowed the fog of voices to immerse her mind, but kept herself free, focussing only on her task. She felt along the neural pathways of the living Cyberiad collective consciousness, always slowly, always careful to avoid detection. She threw out several decoy trails, as she searched for what she needed.

With a mental sigh of relief, she found it and made a few, minor, tweaks. Enough to escape detection, but when the time came…as she prepared to close the connection between her mind and the Cyberiad, she felt the brush of a familiar consciousness.

Ancient, towering, both dark and light, young and old, sad and joyful, manic and patient. The feel of it brought tears to Clara's eyes, as she let exhaustion take her as the connection faded, a single word floating across her mind. _Doctor…_

So he was still there, then. And tomorrow, she would set about finding and making contact with him. Tomorrow.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand

Checkmate

Warnings: Violence, character death, explicit scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its associated trademarks, unfortunately.

Chapter Playlist: 'The Trial of Loki' and 'Deliverance' from 'Thor: the Dark World' and 'Vesper' from 'Casino Royale'.

* * *

"_Again!" _

_Clara wanted to curl up into a ball at that word, delivered in that familiar sibilant voice that she'd gotten to know far too well over the past year. She raised her head from where it had been collapsed on the rough stone floor of their shelter, a long-disused barn, tucked away in the Scottish Highlands, and glared at the reptile-woman prowling around her in a circle._

_In-between bouts of vortex-hopping to various co-ordinates in Time and Space, Madam Vastra had insisted on keeping Clara's combat skills up to scratch, and adding to Jack's 'sock'em in the jaw' technique as she'd scornfully called it. Clara hadn't minded learning from the stern, infinitely experienced Silurian warrior, until she'd actually been hit in the face. And realised how much it hurt._

"_OK," she gasped, forcing herself up onto her hands and knees, eying the woman warily. "Just…give me a minute…"_

_She was cut off abruptly as her arms were shoved out from beneath her, and she bit her lip as her head collided with the stone once more. "In a fight, you won't have a minute to rest!" Vastra had snarled disapprovingly. "Nor can you rely on your exoskeleton to fight for you. If you can't master the ways of the warrior while exhausted, you will stand no chance against the Cybermen. They __**do not **__tire!"_

_Clara gritted her teeth and rolled over as she saw a heeled boot flying towards her face, rolling until she was a short distance away and could scramble to her feet. She blocked a jab to her ribcage, before throwing a punch of her own. A scaly fist caught hers, hauling her into a lock. Her muscles screaming, Clara called on the last of her strength and disengaged from the lock, lashing out with a kick that sent Vastra stumbling. Pleased with just that tiny victory, Clara was unprepared for the fist that suddenly appeared, driving towards her face. She caught it, even though the force drove her to her knees, but she refused to yield, holding Vastra's cold eye defiantly._

"_Enough!" the Silurian suddenly announced, releasing the pressure on Clara's arm, and she could breathe again, gasping as she did so. A pleased gleam appeared in the reptile's eyes, and she helped Clara up. "You'll do. If we had time, I'd make a warrior out of you. As it is, you will survive._

"_Now I know I sucked. You're being nice," Clara chuckled. "Give me a gun any day." She'd mastered using a gun, and any kind of projectile weapon, ages ago. Hand-to-hand still eluded her. She still made mistakes and slipped up, still let her emotions rule her sometimes, to Vastra's exasperation._

"_Don't let the Doctor hear you say that," Vastra chuckled, leading Clara over to a table where water and towels awaited them. Clara gladly splashed her face, making sure some of the cooling water made it onto the back of her neck, beneath the light shirt she wore. "He hates guns."_

"_You mean the Doctor's never used a gun?" she asked, frowningly. Vastra shook her head, smoothing down the skirts of her training habit. _

"_He has used them, but that does not mean that he likes them," the Silurian explained, as Clara nodded to herself, just as Jenny and Strax came in._

"_Have you finished training the boy? There is a squad of five Cyber-units heading this way," Strax barked impatiently. Clara rolled her eyes even as she reached for her vortex manipulator._

"_Strax, by now surely you've realised I am, in fact, a girl?" she muttered good-naturedly, catching Jenny's eye. The younger woman smiled mischievously._

"_Ignore 'im! If I didn' know better, I'd say he wos teasing yer," she called over, ignoring Strax's swift glare. _

"_We'd better go. I'll see you in a few weeks," Clara breathed, as the trio assembled together on the other side of their barn, vortex manipulators ready. _

"_Clara," Vastra called softly, prompting the human to look to her curiously. Vastra had always been polite to her, even bordering on companionable, but she had always retained a distance from her. Now however, she looked almost motherly as she watched the young human woman. "Take care of yourself. Stay alive."_

"_You know me," Clara replied, with a wry grin. "I'm impossible to kill." And with that, she pressed the button on her manipulator and jumped into the vortex, not seeing Vastra's sad, uneasy eyes as they watched her disappear…_

* * *

Clara once more jolted awake, her vision flaring as it adjusted to the harsh light of her cell. The hard metal beneath her grounded her as she shoved aside the memories that had risen up to haunt her as she'd slept. It couldn't have been more than two days since she'd seen them last; the Paternoster Gang. She hoped they were alright.

Their plans hinged on them as much as her. If they failed, or were killed before everything was ready, then everything would be for nothing.

Luckily, their plans were already well underway. Clara smiled to herself, behind the curtain of her hair, as she remembered the back doorway she'd discovered into the Cyberiad network, courtesy of Mr. Clever and his meddling with her implant. And the Doctor.

She'd hoped he would still be in there, knew he had to be after everything that had happened. That hope had been strengthened by her confrontation with Mr. Clever yesterday. It was alive and kicking now, after sensing the Doctor's mental presence in the Cyberiad.

As Clara swung one leg down, she heard the scrape of metal and glanced over her slab to see a metal tray, bearing a glass of some kind of murky green, creamy liquid. She bent down and picked it up gingerly, sniffing it and grimacing. It smelled of Brussels sprouts and mint, not a good combination.

At that moment, the wall shimmered and dematerialised to reveal a lone Cyberman waiting on the other side. "DRINK," it ordered in its usual monotone.

"No way, I'm not touching that," Clara replied firmly. "God knows what's in it, and I trust you lot about as far as I could throw you."

"IT IS AN ORGANIC COMPOUND COMRPISED OF NUTRIENTS. YOU ARE AN ORGANIC, YOU REQUIRE SUSTENANCE TO MAINTAIN KEY SYSTEMS. DRINK!" was the implacable reply. Clara sighed, eying the green mush suspiciously. It didn't make much sense of the Cybermen to poison her, unless this was some sick joke of the Cyber Planner's. And she _**was**_ hungry, and she needed to be strong if she was going to stay on top of her game around him.

"Oh well. Bottoms' up!" she quipped, pinching her nose as she raised the glass to her mouth. It tasted of almost nothing, an odd lack of sensation on her taste buds, but it felt slimy and cold. She forced it down, reminding herself she'd eaten a lot worse in the past few years. Alien fruit, meat of questionable origins, days-old bread and stale water, and that was just travelling with the Doctor. "There, done! Now what?" she asked, placing the glass down and looking up at the Cyberman challengingly. The wall shimmered back into place, and Clara gasped as she felt the familiar tingle of the transmat.

* * *

She ended up materialised in mid-air, and fell to the floor in an undignified heap. "A little warning would be appreciated, next time!" she yelled to the air, in general, as she struggled to untangle the skirt of her dress.

"I'll take that into consideration next time," a familiar voice drawled teasingly from the shadows behind her, and Clara rolled her eyes as she forced herself up onto her knees, trying to find a way of standing up which didn't involve tripping on the dress. The slits, which she'd guessed were to help her mobility, had become mysteriously evasive. "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed did we, my dear?"

Finally Clara managed to find the gaps in the fabric, standing shakily. She span on her heel, glaring up at the all too self-satisfied Cyber Planner sitting watching her struggle, from his perch. "Seriously though, what is with the dress? Didn't think the Cyberiad were much into aesthetics. Oh, don't tell me! Mr. Clever's really into gender stereotypes!" she snapped sarcastically. He stood from his throne, chuckling softly.

"In the Cyberiad, there is no gender," he replied silkily, "No stereotypes, no limitations based on sex. Does that not appeal to you?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather achieve it without sacrificing everything that makes me human," she retorted firmly.

"Like emotions?" Mr. Clever scoffed. "Puny, insignificant things, the very limitations which prevent beings from achieving greatness. It was emotions, sentiment which cost your Doctor his life."

"I would rather be dead than a cold, unfeeling monster," Clara replied softly, turning away from him to look out at the stars, the darkness between like a void of life and light.

"The Cybermen are not without aesthetics, my dear Clara," Mr. Clever continued, as if he hadn't heard her, and she could feel him as he drew nearer, hands rising to press lightly on her shoulders. She almost gasped at the heat emanating from him; his skin was feverish. _Probably all those implants, the body's immune system trying to take them out, but isn't succeeding…_Clara thought distractedly, but her mind was thoroughly taken up by the hard, long fingers currently caressing her collarbone where the neckline of the dress exposed it. "Do you find we look repulsive? Or is it rather that which we represent is what you find repulsive?"

She paused in her reply, musing on his words thoughtfully. There was a strange beauty about the Cybermen, a certain regard for aesthetics, but no individuality, just cold uniformity. And having grown up on a world where looking a certain way was considered to be true beauty, Clara preferred everyone looking different. Individuality, _that_ was true beauty. "No," she admitted at last. "But the Cybermen are cold, lifeless, without flaw or individualism. And that makes you repulsive to any living creature."

Mr. Clever did not speak at first, as if mulling over her words, before he chuckled softly, and Clara shuddered. It was a sensual sound, but an evil one. "An excellent, if predictable, response from an organic and one you give only because you are ignorant."

"Then ignorance really is bliss," Clara retorted angrily, glaring out at the stars. She felt his laugh again, against her hair. "And you're technically still organic yourself, so if it's so awful a state, why don't you 'upgrade'?"

"I have done what is necessary to protect and augment this fragile form," he told her, as she spun around in horror, eying him frantically, trying to see beneath his black clothing. He reached out, tilting her chin up until her eyes met his, the circuitry on his face glowing softly, like a heartbeat. His eyes were cold and dark, holding hers as if she were hypnotised. Without missing a beat, he began to walk around her in a circle, his fingers trailing across the skin of her collarbone until his hand encircled her neck from behind. "But the senses of this body are so much more enhanced than even those of a Cyberman. And these senses require the organic to function. No metal can be responsive as flesh and nerves."

Clara couldn't move, her every atom paralysed by the feel of the Doctor's body pressed against her own, his hand around her neck, gentle, light, only carefully pressing against her pulse. Not holding, not restricting. Not yet.

The fear made her feel almost giddy, as it welled in her stomach and transmuted into heat that swiftly flashed through her entire body. She remembered what he said about enhanced senses and hoped he couldn't feel her body's responses to him. "So you dressed me up, while I was unconscious thanks very much, because you hated my old clothes?" she quipped, desperate to get him to move away from her before her body betrayed her.

He chuckled against her hair, before the hand at her neck trailed away, down her shoulder and arm sensuously. "The Doctor often thought of you in such styles as this. It was one of the few things the interfering, ol' bat and I agreed upon," he replied softly.

"If that was some sort of leading remark, to ask about why he thought of me like this," she muttered coldly, turning to face him as his hold on her eased and she could once again hide behind her defiant façade. "I already know. I already know why I'm the Impossible Girl."

"I take it our dear Madame Vastra told you?" he asked smugly, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I wrestled it out of her eventually," she replied evenly. "It explains a lot. I'm the Girl who died and came back again. Twice. It sounds like the plot of some romance novel from my home century."

"Interesting," he chuckled, as he turned away, looking to the stars outside. "Tell me, Clara. Do you know how I managed to simultaneously invade nearly three million years of the Universe?"

"No," she replied carefully. The Doctor had whispered two words in her ear, before he'd succumbed, and she and Jack had discussed it a few times. But he couldn't know that she knew. "We always assumed the Doctor's memories of Time Lord science gave you the answer."

"In part," he smirked devilishly as he spun to face her. "In part," he repeated, almost whispering. "Oh, but Clara, my Impossible Clara, I have progressed further than the Time Lords ever dared. The entirety of Time and Space could have been theirs for the taking, if it weren't for their stuffy rules. But I found the way! Come with me!"

He held out his hand to her, in a gesture the Doctor had done many times and Clara almost wanted to cry, but she eyed it and him stonily. "So basically I'm just here as your toy to show off to?" she asked caustically.

"My, someone did get out on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Mr. Clever murmured mockingly, before grabbing her hand in a grip of iron. Clara winced as he pulled her close to him, and their eyes locked. There was no softening in his eyes, no mercy, just a ruthless, savage pleasure at her discomfort and surrender, and a calculating desire. Clara blinked as his grin flashed, shark-like, in the gloom. "But essentially…yes, you are!"

* * *

And with that, light filled Clara's vision as he activated the transmat and transported them away.

When they re-materialised, Clara gasped and tore her hand away from the suddenly gentle grip of the Cyber Planner's, as a red glow clouded her vision, a deep, resonant tolling echoing through the chamber where they now stood. She could feel it in her bones, in her heart, as it shattered even further.

They were in the Tardis. And she was all but obliterated.

As Clara looked away from Mr. Clever, her eyes fell on the butchered central console, as the pain and sorrow of the old cow fell, like an awful, piercing melody, into her mind and she knew exactly how Mr. Clever had been able to simultaneously invade three millions years of the timeline without creating paradoxes. A Paradox Machine, and one a hundred times larger and stronger than the one Jack had described to her from the alternate Universe where the Toclafane had invaded and a rogue Time Lord had taken over the Earth. This one made that look like child's play.

Three million minds and the Doctor's own ingenuity had created this. As Clara tentatively stepped closer, her hand pressed against the metal encasing the 'upgraded' central console, she felt the Tardis recognise and reach out to her, their former mutual antagonism forgotten. _I'm going to help you, I'm going to fix this…_She thought desperately. She received only a feeble wave of warmth through her hand in response, but it was enough. The Tardis was still there, just like her pilot. She would save them both.

* * *

"Impressive, isn't she?" Mr. Clever drawled from behind her. "More than your regular, bargain-bucket Paradox Machine. Just add a little Cyber-efficiency, a dash of Time Lord genius-"

"And a metric ton of insanity and sadism," Clara muttered to herself. She felt the Cyber-Planner's swift, amused glance at her back, before he continued like she hadn't spoken.

"And you get a Super-Paradox Machine," he pronounced arrogantly. "Not the best name, is it? I'm still working on it."

Clara paced around the machine, eying the many pipes and wiring extending from it and into the depths of the Tardis behind her, feeling Mr. Clever following her every step. "So I'm guessing this allows you to create multiple paradoxes simultaneously, whilst holding their effects at bay. Like invading several different time periods at once without changing the history of the one before. Like one great cosmic mess."

"Very, very good. I am impressed, Impossible Girl," he chuckled, as she slowed to a halt, staring blindly at the carnage around her.

"But…why?" she asked, turning away from the brutalised Tardis console to stare accusingly at her nemesis. "Why go to this extreme? Why do any of this?"

"Why?" Mr. Clever echoed incredulously, as a self-satisfied grin, almost maniacal in its intensity, flashed across his features. "Because I can. I hold infinity in the palm of my hand. Invading several time periods at once presents the perfect challenge. The ultimate chess game."

"But why not just go back and invade once, ensure that the Cybermen are the dominant force in the Universe from an early point in its history? Why…" Clara mused, before realisation struck. "Because if you'd done that, you would have been written out of history. If you had just gone back in time and invaded the Universe from a single point in time, without the Paradox Machine, you would never have existed in the first place."

"Like any creature, any being in this Universe, I want to _**exist**_," he whispered. "As for the rest, what can I say? I've always been an over-achiever."

"That's unbelievably…" Clara began, chilled to the bone by everything he'd said. It confirmed all her suspicions, of course, but they didn't make any of it easier to hear. A flare of light interrupted her thoughts, as she found herself back in the throne room, and then she was being backed into the wall by Mr. Clever, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"Sexy, I know," he purred. "Underneath all that defiance, all that stubborn sentimentality, you're impressed. You're allured. The scale, the amorality of it all, it calls to everything dark and ruthless inside of you."

"You're delusional," she breathed, feeling as though her lungs had been locked in a vice as she felt the chill of the bulkhead against her back, and the feverish heat of the Cyber-Planner against her front. "All I have ever done is fight you -"

"I know," Mr. Clever smiled down at her, and she shuddered as her heart raced and warmth pooled in her stomach. "And look how far you've come. A leader, a strategist, a killer."

With every insidious word, he tapped into Clara's fears and insecurities, and she trembled, as he raised his hand and pressed it, palm down, against her collarbone. He drew it down, over the curve of her breasts and down, in a languorous trail, to her abdomen, as he whispered in her ear.

"Is there a point to this delusional drivel? Or are those the best pickup lines you've got?" she snapped at him, fighting her own body and the intoxicating heat of the Cyber-Planner's body so close to her own. "What are you going to try next, forcing yourself on me?"

He laughed at that, derisively, and she stared at him. He looked down on her almost tenderly, and something in Clara recoiled from that almost Doctor-ish look, even as her heart raced. In some part of her mind, she'd always suspected this might happen, that he might desire her physically, as a prize and because of the frustration she'd caused him over the years. "One of your Earth philosophers, Voltaire I believe, once said that it is not enough to conquer. One must know how to seduce. Rape lacks finesse, lacks skill. It is so _**primitive**_. I could conquer your body but lose the ultimate prize. And you're so nearly mine anyway."

"I am _**not **_a prize," Clara spat defiantly, escaping his torturous caresses to stand in front of the chess table, her arms folded. "And I'm not yours."

"Oh but you are," he murmured firmly, leaving his perch against the wall and stalking gracefully across the room towards her. "All this time, I've been watching you ever since our own little chess game started. You've come so much further than I'd ever dreamed such a saintly little companion of the Doctor's ever could. Such a delicious dark side to you, my dear…" he chuckled, shaking his head as Clara glared at him fiercely, almost daring him to come closer. "You lead, you command, you plan and you sacrifice others to achieve your objectives. Such perfect ruthlessness!"

"I didn't do any of that by choice!" she murmured forcefully.

"No, and yet here you are. A perfect monster," Mr. Clever replied silkily, stopping just a hairsbreadth away from her front, as Clara eyed him with mixed anger and desire. Her hand rose instinctively but he caught her by the wrist, using his hold to force her against him, transferring her hand to his shoulder. "And every monster needs a companion," he leaned in, whispering seductively in her ear.

"You're not the Doctor," she gasped, feeling his hot breath against her bare throat. "You're not him."

"No, I'm a thousand times better," he countered fiercely, leaning back slightly to catch her eye and hold it in a fascinated paralysis, like the bird before the snake, as she waited for his endgame. "He was paralysed by his fear, fear of losing you, of Time taking away all that he cared for, of his own darkness. I am not. He's never coming back. I am _**here**_."

Clara let her hand drift over the intricate circuitry covering one side of his face, flashing softly against her skin. He closed his eyes, a pained expression of pleasure washing over his face, and she stared, entranced. She barely noticed he was moving her backwards as his arms came around her waist. It was all her fantasies come true at once, and yet not so, because this was not the Doctor. His arguments, his accusations, hit a little too close to home and she was too tired to fight her own inclinations anymore. Soon, none of it would matter anyway. It filled her with a glorious sense of freedom, as she met his steely, lustful glare head-on, flame for flame.

"You've been so fantastic, so strong, so brilliant, so alone. But now, dear companion, my Impossible Girl, my Clara," he murmured as she felt the chess table against her hip, digging in slightly, as his lips hovered over hers. "The game is played out. Checkmate."

One hand buried itself in her hair, twisting and holding tightly, as Clara found her mouth vigorously occupied. She closed her eyes and let herself forget everything, sinking into the physical sensations with relief.

* * *

He tasted alien, smoky and metallic, almost like blood, on her tongue as he pressed his own deeply into her mouth, tasting and possessing every inch of her. She fought back, filled with a sudden, desperate need to bring this domineering, twisted creature to its knees. Surely, she had the advantage here? She was used to feeling lust, desire and need in all its forms since adolescence. She could handle it. Surely the Cyber-Planner, driven by logic and rationale, could not?

True enough, there was an edge of desperation to his kiss as he pressed her back into the chess table, and she felt the pieces topple. But he was not uncontrolled, as his hands swept down over her hips, gathering her flesh into his grip and squeezing possessively, making her gasp into the kiss. The pieces were swept off the table as she was swept onto it, his grip turning from possessive to supporting as he lifted her. Clara felt as if someone else had taken over her body, moving it like a puppet, because surely she hadn't just wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned into his mouth?

Her body betrayed her, as her heart pounded and her hands eagerly roamed his body, sliding beneath his long coat and pressing into the lanky musculature of his torso. His skin burned hers, as his hips rolled against her, sending gentle shockwaves of pleasure through Clara's entire body. She broke away, panting wildly, her hair dishevelled and eyes wide, as she stared up at him. He looked little better, his hair ruffled and sticking up all over the place from her frantic caresses, his lips reddened from their kiss. "Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?" she gasped. His lips quirked but there was an exhilarating intent in his eyes, a grim determination to claim her as his own for good. It both made her shudder with need and snarl with loathing. She shut the contradiction out as he smiled and bent his head to her neck, laying a trail of heated kisses down her lazily winding jugular.

"I have the memories of trillions in my mind," he whispered against her moist skin, biting gently now. He switched to her other side, and Clara bit her lip against a cry as he bit down, harder now. The possessiveness in the gesture both chilled and exhilarated her. "And the Doctor has his own share of experience. Such a bad boy…" he trailed off as he raised his head, hovering over Clara's mouth, his eyes daring her to make the move this time, daring her to accept her desire, and his, and fall.

"Quite the Casanova, aren't you?" she panted, eying him narrowly. "And I'm more concerned with the bad boy in front of me."

Triumph flared in his eyes, as Clara lunged up and pulled his lips back to hers, and he pressed himself between her thighs. His mouth devoured her lips, her neck, her skin as he hauled down the sleeves of her dress, baring her to his ministrations. She shoved at his coat, hauling it off and tossing it onto the stairs behind them. His hands lowered to her legs, trailing sensuously up the long muscle of her thighs, before drifting to the apex. She felt a sudden flash of cold and a stinging pain as her leggings were, literally, torn off and she kicked her boots to the floor.

She arched as his fingers slid between her thighs. She was already wet with arousal and he bared his teeth in a primal grin when he felt her. She shuddered as he twisted and stroked between her legs, teasing her to new heights of arousal as she bucked her hips into his hand. Her lips fell to the inch of skin bared above the collar of his tunic, sucking and laving it desirously, making sure she'd leave as much of a mark as he'd left on her.

She felt his stifled groan and smiled, smugly triumphant herself, before she felt his free hand twine in her hair, tugging sharply until her neck arched brutally as he entered her with one finger. Her breath came laboured and heavy, as she fought to ease the vice around her lungs, the pleasure just temptingly out of reach as she found herself staring up into the eyes of her nemesis, Mr. Clever, the Cyber-Planner, now dark and heated, and yet there was just a kernel of emotion missing, a tithe of feeling that Clara couldn't find no matter how hard she looked. Disappointment made her fierce, and she pulled him back down to her, kissing him wildly. His hand was punishing and savage between her thighs, balancing her on a whisper-thin edge between pain and pleasure.

She ripped open his tunic, pressing her aching breasts against his scalding skin, suddenly desperate for more than the finger he pleasured her with, flexing and shifting roughly within her. She wanted more, and as she rolled her hips against his, eagerly devouring his moan with her mouth, she felt a reassuring hardness against her abdomen.

Abruptly he removed his hands from her, and she gasped as she found herself picked up in a grip as strong as iron, before she was propelled across the short distance between the chess table and the stairs, and then laid gently across the lower steps. She felt softness underneath her, and guessed he had snagged his discarded coat from where she'd thrown it nearby, but coherent thought quickly fled again as he was suddenly on top of her again, pressed against every inch of her tightly, as his hand smoothed down one thigh, beneath the silky fabric of her dress, and then pulled it up against his hip, opening herself to him. She felt both vulnerable and powerful, a scarifying mix as she felt her hips move in time with his, straining for union he was still denying them. She focussed only on the pleasure, refusing to think about the reality of it all, of who was making love to her, of what she still had to do soon enough.

She buried a hand in his hair, glad of the roughness, of the slight discomfort caused by his forceful movements and the hard stairs beneath her. It kept her grounded, stopped her from floating too far into fantasy. This was just sex, just another plane on their personal battleground. And she savoured it, knowing she'd likely never know the Doctor's body like this ever again. And yet, it almost felt like rape; the Doctor didn't know what the Cyber-Planner was doing in his body, and she had no concrete evidence that he'd even wanted her like this, no matter what Mr. Clever said. And yet, it might be the only way to lure the Cyber-Planner into a false sense of security until she was ready to strike and bring him down.

Forcing aside her thoughts, all too aware it was too late to back out now, Clara snaked one hand down between them, scrabbling for the fastenings of his trousers. Mr. Clever's breath hitched as he spread her legs wider around his hips, one hand still twined deep in her hair, the other at her hip, beneath the fabric of her dress. He tugged at it, and she heard a ripping noise as it gaped further at the apex of her legs. Clara freed him, pulling him into position greedily, before transferring her hold to his shoulder, clenching her hand tightly against him.

But he didn't move into her. He stopped, looking down at her triumphantly as she eyed him glaringly. "Want something, my dear?" he gasped, cockily.

"Nope. Nothing at all," she retorted sarcastically, as he grinned cheekily, so much like the Doctor that all that remained of Clara's heart broke at the sight. With that comment, he pressed himself into her, using his hold on her hip to drive himself into her mercilessly.

"That's my girl," he rasped, before clasping her face to his and kissing her deeply, words becoming superfluous as a new battle of wills raged between them. For Clara, her reality narrowed to one of exquisite, painful sensations, a narrow line between pain and pleasure, as they all blurred into one, maddening climb to completion. The feeling of fullness as he withdrew and returned, claiming her over and over again; the heaviness of his body atop hers, his skin rasping against her sensitive flesh, his hand fisted in her hair, their lips and mouths engaged in a fierce duel for supremacy, the hard ridge of the steps beneath her back as she was driven into them again and again. He had trillions of minds to draw upon, the sexual experiences of countless individuals, but Clara had her own store of experience and she made sure she gave as good as she got, determined not to lose this battle.

When release came, it came upon them both, their eyes locked in a silent battle not to break first even as their bodies strained, lips parted in wordless cries of pleasure. Panting in the sudden stillness of the aftermath, Clara was unprepared for the tender kiss he pressed against her forehead, as he rolled over and pulled her with him, still within her, his arms clasped proprietarily around her. She felt him still, his breathing deepen and she glanced up, amused to see he was exhausted. _Overloaded your systems, did I, Mr. Clever…?_

Sleep pricked at her own consciousness, and her body ached. With a sigh, she ignored the uncomfortable stairs and let her mind fall away into unconsciousness, the arms of her lover keeping her safe and warm.

* * *

_Then she felt him. Pressing gently against her mind, tender as a lover, Clara felt __**him**__. _

_The Doctor._

_She felt ashamed, the memories of what had just occurred flashing across her mind's eye but an overwhelming wave of pride, forgiveness, pain, compassion and…love washed over her, and she could have cried. 'Doctor…'_

'_I'm here, Clara. My Clara.'_

'_Doctor, I thought you were gone. I'm so sorry…'_

'_You have nothing to be sorry for. You've been so brave, Clara, utterly brilliant. I'm so proud of you.'_

'_I've done things I'm not proud of. I've become so many terrible things to get here. He was right when he called me a monster, Doctor…'_

'_No, Clara, no, never! Just because you have discovered your own capacity for darkness does not make you a monster. You don't get a kick out of the things you've done, you don't want to be that person if you had any other choice. You're not a monster just because you have a dark side.'_

'_Then why did you call yourself a monster, that one time? Just because you have a dark side too?'_

_Clara could feel his shame and his fear like a shock of cold water, and she ached to soothe him. Sadness filled him, she could feel it, and she sensed him reach out and envelop her in an embrace, all the more tender for being incorporeal. _

'_I'm so sorry, Clara, for what he's done to you. I'm so sorry.'_

_There was silence between them for a moment, and then Clara plucked up the courage to ask what she'd been desperate to for some time. 'Is it true,' she asked softly, 'what the Cyber-Planner said? That you've thought about me, like this? About…us like this?'_

_She could feel his discomfort but it made her brave. It didn't feel like rejection, just embarrassment, like a schoolboy when his first crush finds him out. _

'_Time Lords do not love or desire as humans do, as so many species across the Universe do,' he began to explain, still holding her in a mental embrace tightly. She rested there, safe and warm. 'We only feel such physical desires after a strong emotional tie has been established, and those sorts of ties were never encouraged on Gallifrey. Emotions were not deemed to be important. Not unlike the Cybermen in that regard,' he remarked wryly. 'But we can love, and we can desire. I care for you, very, very much but I'd lost you, and others I have loved, too many times to act upon it. You will always be taken from me, by Time, by other loves, by death or old age. I couldn't bear having and losing you too, my Clara.'_

_He was old, so old and who knew how many years he had still left to live beyond them all, her included? Clara felt inexpressibly sad for him, and she felt him tighten his embrace, and she held him back, imagining burying her head in his shoulders as she loved to do before all this. 'How did you survive?' she asked._

'_With difficulty. I lied to the Cyber-Planner when I told him how much of my brain I controlled. I still have .388% of the brain, enough to stay hidden until the time was right. Your…interlude shorted his circuitry out and he's rebooting. We've got about an hour before I'll have to retreat again.'_

'_I know,' Clara sighed. 'Everything's ready, Doctor. Are you ready?'_

'_Yes, I am. I've had three years to come up with a way to stop him. I'll do it this time, Clara, I promise. You'll never have to go through this again,' he promised her firmly, and she shuddered at the ardency in his mental voice. She didn't quite trust to it, just yet though. Too many disappointments, too many failures, for her to simply trust anymore. He felt it, and she felt his plea like a kiss against her forehead. 'Trust me, Clara, please.'_

_With a shiver, she gave in. 'Ok, Doctor, I trust you,' she whispered to him, and then it was almost like she could see him, in her mind's eye. He appeared before her, in his bowtie and waistcoat, his dark coat flaring around him as he walked towards her with that old swagger she'd always secretly adored. _

'_You know, an hour is practically an eternity,' he whispered as he bent down to her, his lips brushing hers. His arms came around her waist and a sense of familiarity overwhelmed her. They'd done this before, her Doctor and her. Not the Cyber-Planner, not Mr. Clever but the Doctor and her had done this before._

_In one of her past lives, no doubt. Clara refused to let her resentments cloud the moment, as he bent his head to hers and they kissed for the first time. It was sweet, tender and loving, full of the sentiment the Doctor could never fully express to anyone for fear of loss and pain. His hand slid gently into her hair, caressing reverently as she clasped her arms around the Doctor's neck, feeling peace like she'd never known fill her very being._

_There is an eternity in an hour, after all._

* * *

_Heraka VI, 2133_

On a bare, rocky planet the twin suns rose over the arid landscape, as two figures sat atop a dusky pink tor, watching the sky as it lightened from deepest indigo to softest pink.

The solar system's name was Heraka, but that was all Vastra knew of its history. The system's eleven planets had been devastated in the Cyber Wars, and whatever lingered of its past, it was well-buried in the desolation left behind by the fighting. The Silurian found it oddly soothing and peaceful, after constant war for the past three years. The final calm before the storm.

"D'yer think she'll do it? Clara, I mean?" her companion asked, picking at the edge of a black eye patch irritably.

"You should really stop fidgeting like that, my dear. You don't want to irritate your eye," Vastra murmured, relishing the growing warmth of the suns on her scales.

"And yer shouldn' dodge around the question," Jenny replied teasingly, with a slight smile at her wife. Vastra noticed she'd stopped fidgeting, but only smiled to herself, as she reached out and took Jenny's hand.

"I do not know for certain, but if she is anything like her previous incarnation, she will find a way," she finally said, after a lingering silence. "She reached him when even _we _could not. She might be able to reach him now. We can only hope."

"Hope," Jenny laughed ruefully. "I'd almost forgotten wot that feels like."

"We must always have hope, my dear," Vastra replied softly, with a loving smile at her partner. Jenny tucked her head against the Silurian's shoulder in a rare display of affection. Even once married, they'd still kept up the pretence of mistress and servant, oddly comfortable in their roles. But Vastra savoured the times her wife crossed that boundary and they could just be together.

Those times were rare enough, and Vastra made a silent promise to herself to ensure that changed when all was made right again. She could only hope Clara was successful. She could only hope.

"Madam!" Strax's strident tones broke their peace over the earpiece in her ear, and she sighed but did not straighten from her comfortable position with her arm around Jenny. "The Oswald boy's implant just activated. We're receiving temporal and spatial co-ordinates. The Cyber-fleet is nearing 26th Century Earth. Shall I send the data packet?"

Vastra sighed. They hadn't been able to risk sending it in with Clara when she'd first been captured but the fact she'd been able to contact them at all meant she'd found a way to escape detection. The thought of what the data packet contained, and what it would do, made her go cold for a moment before the warrior in her rose and her face grew stern. Despite her growing fondness for the plucky young human, this needed to be done. "Do it, Strax. We'll be down shortly."

"Very well, Madam," Strax barked, before the contact terminated, and Vastra felt Jenny's pensive glance.

"Is it time?" she breathed. Vastra turned to face the human, bringing their heads close together in a gesture of tenderness.

"It's time," she whispered, relishing the last touch of the suns' warmth against hers and Jenny's skin.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. And Eternity In An Hour

Checkmate

Warnings: Violence, character death, explicit scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or its associated trademarks, unfortunately.

Chapter Playlist: 'Mind If I Cut In?' from 'the Dark Knight Rises', 'Sacrifice' from 'Divergent', 'Final Test' and 'You're Not Gonna Like This' from 'Divergent, 'Lokasenna' from 'Thor: the Dark World' and 'Remember Me' from 'Doctor Who - Series 7'.

* * *

_'To see a world in a grain of sand_  
_And a heaven in a wild flower,_  
_Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,_  
_And eternity in an hour.'_

_-** Auguries of Innocence, William Blake**_

* * *

The first thing Clara felt upon awakening was the prolonged ache throughout her entire body. The second was the bone-cold chill of the metal beneath her legs and arms, where she was curled up on the metallic, over-the-top throne. _Well, after last night I know he's not compensating for something…_

The thought skimmed across her mind, calmed and at peace after her interlude with the Doctor in the safety of her mind. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep but she could only vaguely remember the Doctor leaving her as the Cyber-Planner rebooted, and Mr. Clever's psyche reasserted itself.

She still felt that peace, despite the knowledge of everything that was about to come. The final pieces in her long chess game were about to come into play, and the courage she needed to see her endgame through to the end filled her. The Doctor had helped her with that, erasing her shame and the anger at her actions with Mr. Clever, and reminding her that it would soon be over and it would never have happened at all.

Memories of his forceful passion, his possessive kiss intruded, along with the treacherous thought that had haunted her since the moment their lips had met. Why had the Doctor never dared to touch her like that? Before, she'd thought their warm, loving but strictly-platonic-but-not-really relationship had been enough, had to be enough. Now, having experienced passion in his arms, she didn't know if she could go back to the way they had been. Even if it hadn't been entirely him. Or maybe Mr. Clever was more _him_ than the Doctor was, all his dark impulses unfettered by the rules he so ruthlessly enforced upon himself. _It doesn't matter, _she told herself sternly. _This is exactly what he wants, to confuse me about my feelings until I'm helpless to do anything. My feelings don't matter weighed against all of Time and Space…_

As Clara straightened, stretching out kinks in her spine from her awkward position, she glanced around the chamber but it was empty, devoid of Cyber-Planner. She stood carefully, testing out her legs but they were steady despite the ache in her muscles. Good, she'd need her strength.

As she stood, she took a mental inventory of her body, a trick she'd learned from Madam Vastra. She noted her boots had been placed back on her feet but her leggings were gone. _Probably beyond repair,_ she thought wryly, remembering Mr. Clever's forceful touch. Her dress had been put back into place, the tear in the fabric all but unnoticeable now she was standing upright, and apart from the general ache of her muscles, she was unhurt. Except for the patch of skin on her neck, over her carotid artery, that burned slightly as she put a hand to it, hoping the coolness of the chamber would alleviate it. His claim, his mark of ownership over her.

_That's what he thinks_. The sarcastic, slightly gleeful, thought rose to the surface of her mind, and she couldn't resist a slight grin. Just a little one, in case there were cameras watching her. Which there probably was.

Inventory done, Clara slowly descended the steps of the dais, watching every shadow for the Cyber-Planner, wondering where he was. There were no entrances to the chamber, so no hope of escape without accessing the transmat system, not that Clara intended to escape. That wasn't her role.

She felt the judder as the ship suddenly dropped out of the vortex, and she felt only a faint sense of horror as a very familiar planet appeared in the window. Earth.

Shivering, she crossed her arms over herself as her eyes roamed over the blue planet below her, white clouds scudding across its atmosphere. Her heart ached at the sight of the continents, once showing at least some green but they were all now desolate, lifeless expanses of desert. In the beginning, she'd fiercely wished that the Cybermen would get sand in their joints and freeze up.

She felt the cold shimmer of the transmat at her back, but she didn't move from her perusal of her home planet. She didn't move even when she felt hard, hot arms encased in black, encircle her waist and pull her back a step into a familiar embrace.

"Awake at last. I was beginning to think I had permanently damaged you during our little interlude," he murmured against her ear, his lips caressing her skin with heated, infinitesimal caresses, as he ran his hands over her body. Clara let herself moan and sink back into his arms, letting herself enjoy the sensations for just a moment longer. Just a few more moments until everything ended.

"Not to deflate your ego, an impossible task I know," she gasped, reaching up and back to sink her hand into his hair, grazing the implant on his face. She felt his amused smirk even as she scratched her nails over the nape of his neck, making him inhale suddenly. "But I'm tougher than I look."

"Undoubtedly," he replied, running one hand up her inner thigh suggestively. His mien screamed possessive, assured domination and Clara inwardly smiled, even as her heart ached in tandem with her body, to give in. She had him exactly where she wanted him. "You did, however, break far quicker than I expected of you."

Panic flared within Clara, and she let her instinctive anger at his words colour her voice to disguise it, when she spoke. "If you're trying to 'get me in the mood', you're failing miserably!" she snapped.

"Am I?" he huffed amusedly against her neck, before pulling her lips to his, his fingers gripping her chin tightly. Clara didn't let herself sink into the kiss, fighting his dominance with her own, kissing him as fiercely as he did her. He released her abruptly, striding away from her to sit down on one of the chairs at the chessboard. His eyes were on fire and he regarded her with a cruel smirk. "Still got your spirit, my Impossible Girl?"

Clara ignored that comment, suddenly desperate for the whole sorry mess to be over and done with. She turned to the observation window, crossing her arms and forcing her expression into a worried, suspicious one. "Why are we here?" she asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"To destroy the nerve centre of your pitiful resistance," he replied coldly. "Thanks to that lovely little implant in your brain, I now have access to every bit of data on your little band. Every hideout, every access code, even their biological data. All thanks to you."

"The implant alone wouldn't have given you access to any of that data…" she trailed off, realisation dawning in her eyes. "You hacked me."

"Correction: you hacked us and then we hacked you," he drawled, chuckling. "Did you really think that you could hack into the Cyberiad undetected and without consequences? You gave me the back door I needed to destroy your pitiful little band."

"But why? The resistance is no real threat to you, we're an annoyance at best," Clara retorted fiercely, spinning to face him, enraged and horrified. Or at least, doing her best to pretend to be. It wasn't too difficult.

"The resistance was useful to me in drawing you out. Now I have you, my Impossible Girl, they are expendable," he replied callously. "Boring. All that lingering humanity. Don't worry, I'll soon change that."

Clara had always known, since Emma Grayling had warned her about the sliver of ice in the Doctor's heart, that he had the capacity of cruelty and darkness beyond her ability to comprehend. Now she was seeing it firsthand, and she was sickened. Even if it was only temporary.

She eyed him, sat resplendent and indolent on the chair, watching with amused eyes, the implant on his face gleaming in the dim light of the chamber. His dark coat draped his body perfectly, his hair thick and luscious, his lips quirked in a cruel yet sensuous smirk. The sight of it made her both yearn to kiss it off his lips and push him out of an airlock. But she needed to keep her composure, just a little longer. Just a little longer…

"What, Impossible Girl? Nothing to say?" he asked teasingly. "As I said before, your fight is over. I have you now. I've won."

"No," Clara replied, as cool and controlled as he. One nearly nonexistent brow rose superciliously, and she let her innocent, horrified act drop, as an equally devious, cruel smile appeared on her lips. She felt a jolt in her mind, and her smile only grew as an alarm blared in the silent, tense air.

_INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! _

The Cyber-Planner barely moved at the announcement, but she could see his surprise and suspicion as he tensed and his relaxed mien dropped immediately. Slowly, she began to pace towards him, relaxed and triumphant.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you?" she breathed. "A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction."

"Do explain?" he replied lazily, but his eyes were burning into her, rage and disbelief gleaming like embers in their depths, contrasting with the cold lights of his facial implant. Clara chuckled.

"I hacked you, you hacked me but what you didn't realise was that I laid several false trails for you to follow. You had no idea what I was really searching for," she continued, drawing ever closer to him, eying the pieces on the chessboard. "Your Achilles heel."

"And what is that, my Impossible Girl?" Mr. Clever chuckled, crossing his arms arrogantly, clearly disbelieving her confidence. The alarm continued to blare, a drumbeat to Clara's final act.

"Your arrogance. Did you really think you could control a Time Lord?" she asked, as she mentally accessed the implant and her backdoor into the Cyberiad. With a flick of her mind, the Cyberiad trembled and shivered, as the Cyber-Planner flinched.

* * *

_Upload in progress. 25% complete…_

* * *

"The Doctor lied about how much of his brain he controlled. He isn't gone, was never gone, he just let you think you'd won."

"What are you doing?" he snapped, his voice trembling. Still, he didn't move.

"You thought the implant was your way to control me, but it wasn't. You've forgotten, when the Doctor and I first met, my little brush with the Wi-Fi left me with first-rate hacking skills. Far better than your clumsy attempts to hack me," she continued, cold and merciless. "You thought you controlled me. But I control _**you**_. And the Cyberiad."

* * *

_Upload 47% complete…_

* * *

"You're only human. You couldn't possibly process all of that data to do anything with it," he snarled, and Clara's smile turned sad.

"And that's where you're wrong again," she whispered, her heart pounding but her mind was calm, controlled as the data packet Vastra and the others had sent her began downloading from her mind and into the Cyberiad. The Cyber-Planner's eyes went blank as he processed the incoming virus, and Clara stepped into the gap between his legs. "I'm not going to do anything with it. I'm going to destroy it."

She swept her leg over his, straddling him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Awareness filtered back into his eyes as his arms turned to shackles around her waist. "The Doctor knew. He knew his obsession with me, the Impossible Girl, would trickle into you. He knew it would drive you more than Cyber logic or Time Lord arrogance. The data packet I carry contains a virus which will disrupt the neural link between Cybermen and your own. The Doctor will be free."

"And it will kill you in the process," he replied, a sudden calculating gleam in his eyes. "And for what? The Cyberiad will reboot and I will retake the Doctor's mind before he'd even have time to scratch his nose!"

* * *

_Upload 76% complete…_

* * *

"I know. But you're concentrating on the wrong people," she taunted him, smilingly. "I will be dead in a few minutes and the Doctor will be free but trapped on a Cyber-ship."

"And what have I overlooked, my Impossible Girl?" he drawled, triumph flaring in his eyes as he pulled her against his chest. Clara almost pitied his self-delusion.

"I was never the prize," she whispered against his lips, leaning in. "I was the decoy. The prize is the Paradox Machine."

"Ahh, the lizard, the potato and the serving girl, "he laughed scornfully. "They'll never make it past my Cyber-units. Your little friends will die in vain."

"Not when the virus has every Cyberman writhing in agony in a few moments," she retorted smugly, and the Cyber-Planner's face blanked.

"But the Paradox Machine will only revert to the moment of its activation, which as I recall, was after I'd taken control," he pointed out coolly, but Clara only shook her head smilingly.

"I sent a command to the Tardis to change the activation time-stamp to the moment the Cybermen awoke from their tombs on Hedgewick's. For once, the old cow actually listened to me," she replied. "Not bad, huh?"

After a moment's silence, his face softened as he pulled her in tighter to him, brushing his lips over hers lustfully. "My brilliant, devious little Impossible Girl," he purred. "You forget that I know you. You're not a martyr; you're a survivor, like me, like the Cyberiad. You'll never go through with this."

Clara let herself soften, trying not to think about his words, as his hands trailed up her back seductively, awakening the lust inside her to add to the adrenaline in her veins. "You don't have to do this," Mr. Clever whispered. "You could rule, at my side. We could remake the Universe any way we wish. Power and control would be yours, in my universe…"

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"That's where you're wrong," she whispered, leaning away from him to run her fingers over the chess pieces on the table. His eyes followed her movements before returning, piercingly, to her face. "Both of you are wrong," she continued. "I don't want power, or control, over the Universe. Over _**your **_Universe. I've lived in a hell of fear and danger, watching people I care for die, sometimes because I sent them to their deaths. I've seen your universe and I'd rather die than live in your universe for a moment longer."

She knocked the king over with a finger, before turning back to the Cyber-Planner, a grim, steely smile on her face, her eyes alight with triumph. "And this time, Doctor, try and get it right," she whispered, with a hint of her former flirty impishness. "Checkmate."

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his, her hands shooting up to grasp his face and hold it still. He hesitated and then kissed her back voraciously, angry and fierce and possessive, his tongue twining with hers hungrily, his fingers crushing her waist.

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_Upload 100% complete. Incorporating new software…_

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Clara's back arched, her spine bending until it looked like it would break, her mouth torn from the Cyber-Planner's and opened wide in a silent scream as blood trickled from her nose and the corners of her mouth. Her limbs went rigid as her mind fought, and failed, to handle the sudden influx of information and control, and she slumped back, over the chessboard, knocking the pieces to the floor.

The Cyber-Planner flinched and jolted as if electrocuted before he gasped, the implant on his face crackling as neural feedback shut him down and he screamed.

Silence fell in the icy chamber, until the soft sound of panting filled it. The body slumped in the chair before the still form of Clara Oswald suddenly bucked and sat upright, his eyes snapping open.

The Doctor was back.

"Ow!" he groaned, unaware for the moment of his companion's body lying before him. "Cybernetic implants, always a killer on the pain receptors. Clara?"

He looked around before his eyes fell to the unmoving form of Clara, laid out over the chessboard like some parody of a sacrifice. Horror and grief filled his eyes, and he scrambled from the chair, bending over her frantically. "Clara? Clara!?" he shouted, as memory kicked back into place and he remembered everything that had just happened. The virus, the neural feedback…

He groaned. He'd never meant for her to go that far. The virus was only supposed to knock out Mr. Clever long enough for the Cyberiad to be left momentarily bereft of leadership and for Vastra and the others to find and destroy the Paradox Machine. Not this…

"Clara," he breathed, feeling for her pulse in wild hope and finding only the tiniest beat and fading fast. Quickly he placed his hands on her head, delving into her disintegrating mind and seeking out her memories. "Clara, I am so sorry…"

"_**I **_would never have let her come to harm, you know," a horribly familiar voice whispered tauntingly from the shadows. "Our Impossible Girl…"

Mr. Clever stepped from the shadows, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Clara's face, on the trails of blood drying on her skin at the corners of her lips. "You're not here, you're not real," the Doctor breathed, glaring at him fiercely.

"Unfortunately. I'm a projection of your mind, until I've finished rebooting and retake control," Mr. Clever retorted, his eyes still on Clara. "I must congratulate you, Doctor. I never knew you had it in you. Oh wait, yes I did."

"I never meant for her to go this far. She wasn't supposed to die…" the Doctor breathed, finally looking down on his Impossible Girl yearningly, tears in his eyes. "Never. Not again."

"The Cyberiad is too complex a network to simply disrupt so easily," Mr. Clever replied softly, a hand reaching out to caress Clara's hair. "She realised that, knew it would take far more. Once again, she gave herself…for you."

"Shut up!" the Doctor snapped. He didn't need to hear the truth. The knowledge was burned onto his hearts. "If you'd never existed, this would never have happened!"

"Ahh, so that's your plan?" Mr. Clever smirked. "Disrupt the neural link of the Cyberiad so your little guerrilla group could steal onboard and destroy the Paradox Machine, return everything to the way it was, and then find a way to stop me from taking over your mind?"

The Doctor remained silent, eyes fixed on Clara's unseeing ones, still open and glassy. He ached for her to suddenly breathe, to sit up and laugh and shove him for being so mushy, but she would laugh at him again unless his plan worked.

"It won't work, you know," Mr. Clever's smug, knowing tones grated on his ear as his gaze darted up to his, holding his doppelganger's gaze unflinchingly. "And when it doesn't, I will take her for my own from the start, this time. _**I **_will keep her safe, even from herself, and together we will rule Time and Space. Mr. Clever and the Impossible Girl. Quite a ring to it, eh Doctor?"

"You won't win, not this time," the Doctor snarled, his voice a dark promise. "I promise you, you will never win again and you will never touch Clara again."

The adversaries' eyes held the other in a silent battle of wills, over the lifeless body of their Impossible Girl, while explosions rocked the ship and the alarm blared unceasingly in the background.

* * *

Jenny felt a sharp pain in her side as she flung herself to the floor for the umpteenth time. Beside her, Vastra fired back shot after shot, while Strax readied his acid grenades gleefully. The alarm blared over the Cybermen's constant refrain of "DELETE! DELETE!", the air thick with gunfire and the smell of scorched flesh.

They'd been fighting tooth and nail from the moment they'd detected the shields and temporal dampeners onboard the Cyber-ship lowering from their base on Earth, under heavy attack from the Cybermen, and teleported onboard. Jenny could only guess that Clara had time-delayed the commands when she'd hacked the Cyberiad, so they wouldn't lower before time and alert the Cyber-Planner.

Worry for her friend flashed through her, as she rolled towards her gun and swiped it up, firing back at the Cybermen closest to her, over a data bank. They were two decks up from the Tardis, and they needed to move or they'd soon be overrun.

_Come on, Clara…_

Pain twinged for a moment, not in her body but in her heart, as she recollected what it would mean when the Cybermen stopped firing. _I'm sorry, Clara…_

And stop they did. They froze, a protracted, collective scream emanating from every one as they stopped firing and the three fighters paused, catching their breaths.

"She did it," Jenny breathed, tears filling her eyes. "Clara did it."

"Come, we haven't time," Vastra called, her voice sad. "The neural feedback won't last long. The Cyber-Planner will reboot in a minutes. Come on!"

Jenny thrust aside her feelings with difficulty, following her wife and Strax into the shadows of the corridors, sprinting with new energy as she realised how close they were to winning. To this damned war finally being over…

Or never happening at all.

They darted around frozen Cybermen, Jenny trying not to flinch from the screams that echoed around her, the hole in her face where her eye had once been aching, a ripple of pain pounding in her head. She ignored it with gritted teeth, making sure the grenade belt around her torso was secure as she ducked beneath the upraised arm of a Cyberman.

Suddenly, she was forced to duck as a gunshot imploded the metal bulkhead above her head. "They're waking up!" Strax barked. "Hurry!"

They were so close. Jenny could practically feel the tortured groan of the Tardis as she felt them draw close. At last they stopped before two great metal doors with no keypad. "It must be accessible to transmat only," Vastra breathed, cursing under her breath a moment later. "We'll have to use Strax's grenades. Strax!"

More gunfire, and renewed cries of "DELETE! DELETE!", as Jenny gave covering fire for Strax as he prepared his grenades. Vastra grabbed her and pulled her aside as Strax set them off with a remote, imploding the doors. And within, a short distance away in the chamber…

The Tardis.

"GO!" Strax shouted. "I will give covering fire. GO!"

Vastra didn't waste time on objections or goodbyes. She inclined her head in salute to the Sontaran before grabbing Jenny and dragging her inside. They heard Strax's glee-filled shouts of battle lust as they ran, and Jenny shut her eyes for a moment when she heard his death cry.

They reached the doors of the Tardis and Vastra paused with a sad smile. "Go on, my love," she whispered. "I will hold them off while you prepare a nice welcome for them."

"Madam…Vastra," Jenny breathed, tears in her eyes. Vastra grabbed her in a loving, deep kiss, reassurance in her jewel-like eyes.

"I will see you after, my love. Have faith," she whispered. "Now go."

Steeling herself, Jenny tore herself away, rushing into the Tardis as the doors slammed shut behind her. She tried not to think as she heard Vastra's taunting calls, her weapons fire, her grunts of pain. She concentrated only on setting up the grenades in the required places, before she rushed to the monitor. The Tardis groaned and gasped around her, the red light pulsating as the Cloister Bell rang continuously.

With a sigh of relief as her eyes scanned the console monitor, the Tardis showing her what they'd hope Clara would achieve. The time stamp for activation had been changed!

It put a grim, triumphant smile on Jenny's face as she turned to face the Cybermen as they broke through the Tardis doors, their weapons raised and pointed at her. She held the remote trigger unit in her hand, as she stepped away from the console, her single eye flashing with determination and satisfaction. "'Ello boys!" she called tauntingly. "You're just in time for the party!"

And she pressed the button.

* * *

_Paternoster Row, London, 1889_

Jenny blinked as she paused in her task, pouring the tea for herself and Vastra. Phantom sensations of trousers instead of skirts, a gun in her hand instead of a sword, and the pain of a missing eye overwhelmed her for a moment, as her hands shook and she dropped the cup she was holding.

"My dear!" Vastra was at her side in a moment, her hands helping her solicitously to a seat. "I've heard that this can be a bit disorientating."

"She did it! The Paradox Machine is gone!" Jenny whispered, almost in awe, before looking to Vastra in sudden doubt. "Isn't it?"

Strax suddenly bustled in with the newspaper and fresh tears rose to Jenny's eyes at seeing her friend resurrected, again.

Vastra took the newspaper and checked the date. "I believe so," she murmured, looking towards the handsome antique cloak on their mantel. "As long as Clara does not arrive in the hall in five minutes' time."

Jenny, Strax and Vastra waited with bated breath as the clock ticked down the minutes. When the clock struck twelve' o' clock, Jenny laughed with delight and relief. "It's over!"

"I always knew the boy had it in him!" Strax cheered, as the other two rolled their eyes.

"Technically, it never happened," Vastra corrected with a smile. "We only remember because we were at the eye of the time storm."

"And Clara? Will she be…?" Jenny asked, tentatively. Vastra smiled, unease in her eyes.

"There is much yet we do not know about Miss Clara Oswald. I'm sure she will surprise us as always," the reptilian warrior remarked firmly. "Somehow, I doubt the Doctor, or the Universe, has finished with the mystery of Clara Oswin Oswald."

Jenny chuckled, despite her worry. "Impossible Girl, indeed."

"Indeed," Vastra agreed with a grave smile.

* * *

_Hedgewick's World Of Wonders, several thousand years later…_

"Clara! Clara!"

A voice pulled Clara from her fitful nap, slumped against a parapet on the castle walls. The sun was rising, making her wince as she stretched, getting rid of the kinks in her limbs.

Only half-remembered sensations of pain, of rough hands caressing and claiming her, of cold skin and flashing silver, of strong shoulders under her hands, of anger, fear, triumph and grief washed over her, and she blinked.

She fought to concentrate, to try and remember but the details slipped away from her grasp.

"Clara?"

She looked up at the sound of her name again, and found Brains watching her warily. "You ok?" he asked, concernedly.

"Sure, just a nightmare," she murmured, getting to her feet with a groan. She was freezing cold and exhausted from worry and fear. Fear for the Doctor, for the kids, and for everyone else.

For a moment, her mind conjured an image of lips pressed possessively against her own and a velvety, all-too familiar voice whispering "Checkmate…"

She shook herself, ignoring Brains' worried look. "Just a nightmare," she murmured to herself, reassuringly.

* * *

_A few hours later, the Tardis, London, 2013_

The Doctor watched as Clara skipped out the door, happy and impishly grinning. He feared she would have residual memories from the alternate timeline he had just managed to avert, that he hadn't been fast enough to suppress them before she died, _**again**_. It had been a close-run thing, closer run than he liked.

He'd almost lost her, _**again.**_

Thankfully, three years had been plenty of time for him to work out how to defeat the Cybermen and Mr. Clever permanently. The answer had, quite literally, been at his feet the entire time. Porridge, or rather the Emperor, and the hand pulse he'd tried to use on poor Webley.

It had been simple, and so easy in the end. It had just taken the destruction of three million years' of Time and Space, and the torture and deaths of his friends before the Paradox Machine was destroyed.

The Doctor shuddered as he remembered the monstrosity Mr. Clever had come up with, a thousand times more powerful, and abhorrent, than the one the Master had built. His poor Tardis had taken a battering, but she recovered quickly as she always did.

The Doctor sighed as he thought of another powerful, resilient female that he'd almost lost. That he _**had **_lost, again. She had died, in the moments before the time reversal and the destruction of the Paradoxes it emanated from, from the neural feedback from a virus she should never have had the knowledge to create, yet alone use.

His hands fisted on the railings as the Tardis sang soothingly in his mind, reminding him that they'd triumphed, that he'd saved her in the end. That she was alive and just outside the doors, happy and well, her heart beating strongly, all memory erased.

He supposed he should have felt bad about erasing Clara's memories without her permission or knowledge, but he couldn't find it in his selfish hearts. She had changed, had been forced to change, and he didn't want it all to have been in vain. The war had never happened now, after all, and she shouldn't have to face the nightmares and the pain of her memories.

No. Better to revert, like the rest of the Universe, to her previous state. Happy, carefree and bright, still so bright like a flame in the darkness.

His battle with Mr. Clever, with the darker aspects of himself, had destroyed that. For once, he'd truly been a Doctor and healed the damage as best he could. Even if there was a part, an infinitesimal part that still clamoured with all the arrogance and the dark impulses of Mr. Clever, to leave her memories intact, to hold her again and kiss her, to possess her in a way the Doctor would never allow himself.

He firmly shut that part out, as he shook his head with a breathy sigh. "Impossible Girl," he murmured. "A mystery wrapped in an enigma, squeezed into a skirt that's just a little too…tight…."

Phantom sensations of soft skin, of fierce cries, of pleasure rushing through every cell of his body as he looked down into deep, doe-brown eyes, filled his mind. He caught himself with a jolt, frowning darkly.

"What are you?" he finished grimly, turning away to the Tardis console. Three times now, he had lost her. Three times, he had watched her die.

As he piloted the Tardis away from Earth, away from Clara and all her mystery, the thought reverberated throughout his being, as he shut out his own memories of her, of Clever's memories of her, determined to solve her before she could be taken from him again.

_No more…_

* * *

_**Finis**_

_**A/N: So here we come to the end of the story. Hope you enjoyed and there weren't too many plotholes. Temporal physics always gives me a headache if I think about it too long.**_


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